Daddy
by Emerald-Water
Summary: “Daddy…” He stopped breathing as he heard the word. His heart suddenly aching so bad, beating frantically… if one had told him he was able to feel that much after everything that had happened he would have laughed them in the face. Wee!Chester-Oneshot


Hi all!

This little story "just happened". I don't even know how I came up with it... it just was there. If everything works out right, then there should be a companion-piece from "deanandhisimpala" (her turn on Dean saying "Daddy") some time soon.  
No, girl! I don't stress you here ;) - and thanks for betaing!

Well, this is set in the time between Mary's death and John starting to really hunt. Sam still needs diapers ;) and Dean says Daddy.

But it wouldn't be a supernatural-story if there wouldn't be something supernatural going on here, right?

For once a WARNING: Distressed kids ahead.

* * *

**"Daddy..."**

"_Daddy…"_

This one little word had let his world spin out of control. Whispered so softly, at first he had thought he had imagined it.

He had stopped breathing, his heart suddenly aching so bad, beating frantically… if one had told him he was able to feel that much after everything that had happened he would have laughed them in the face.

_Hold on, hold on, I'm coming!_The mantra repeated itself over and over again in his head, as he pressed down hard on the accelerator-paddle.

_Daddy…_

---

His car skidded to a stop in front of the small house and he pushed open the door, not caring that he left the engine running as he headed for the front door, stopping only long enough to hear the loud wailing of a toddler. His baby. Sammy…

He kicked the door in and froze as the crying stopped, silence settled over the house and it seemed as if time itself stopped as he stood in the living-room and didn't dare to breathe. Then the wailing started anew, even louder and more distressed than before and John flew up the stairs, following the sound.

_Daddy…_

---

"Put him down." His voice was nothing more then a growl as his eyes focused on the man he had trusted with his children. The man he had thought was a friend.

"Put him down," he repeated and saw a glint of malice crossing the man's features.

"Here to pick up the pieces, Johnny-Boy?" for a moment his eyes flashed yellow, then the moment was over and Gerald grinned back at him. "You shouldn't stay in one place for too long Johnny-Boy." And with that his eyes bulged and black smoke was spilling out of his nose and mouth.

John watched petrified as the man toppled forward, taking his little boy down with him.

"Sammy!" he screamed.

"Daddy!" the hysterical child wailed.

---

He held on tight to the little, quivering bundle in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, while he tried to calm his nerves.

He listened to his baby-boy's hitching breaths, watched him put his thumb in his mouth to suck on it, big tears still running down Sam's chubby cheeks.

"_Daddy…"_ he remembered the breathless whisper.

Listening to the quiet house, his anxiety suddenly peaked again, and he pushed to his feet and began running. Little Sam, despite sensing his father's distress, remained calm in his arms, his eyes glazed over, blinking sluggishly.

"Dean!" he hollered. "DEAN!" He stopped at the door to his bedroom, where he knew the only phone in the little house was, then froze.

"Oh my god… what did he… DEAN!"

_Daddy…_

---

"Sir! Sir! What happened, Sir. Can you tell us what happened?"

He couldn't remember that he had called for help. But as he looked into the face of the paramedic, he realized he must have.

"Sir! We need you to let go of him. Sir?"

Slowly his eyes fell on top of the little head with the mop of unruly, chocolate-brown hair.

"Sammy…" he whispered, seeing his little boys eyes closed, feeling the shuddering breath the child took.

"Sir…"

"What did he do to my children…" he whispered brokenly.

"Sir, let me help. " The man's eyes met John's and for a moment he wanted to yell at the stranger. Scream at him to fuck off, that he wouldn't trust anyone with his kids ever again.

But then all fight left him and he nodded mutely, handing Sam over to the total stranger.

As if in a trance he followed the paramedics andignored the police-officers who led a cuffed Gerald away. He mutely sat at the side of his two boys on the ride to the hospital, listened to the medical-jargon as the paramedics worked.

Words like concussion, contusions, abrasions, bruises filled his ears. The word "shaken-impact-syndrome" made him snap his head up. Dizziness and nausea hit him as his eyes stopped on the small bundle of his youngest and he started to shake violently.

"Sammy… no…" he whispered, as dark spots started to dance through his vision. He felt as he tilted forward, heard commotion from far away, a voice speaking but he didn't understand the words…

When his vision returned to him, he was propped up against the bench he had sat on and the same paramedic from before looked at him sympathetically, his one hand on John's shoulder as the other held the paper-bag that covered his nose and mouth.

"That's it. Nice and easy. Here you go…" the man whispered with a small smile. "It's just the shock catching up. It's okay... I understand…"

"How are my boys…" John stopped the man.

"They will be okay. Don't worry. We're almost at the hospital and the doctors are prepared, they will check them properly." He stopped as the ambulance came to a halt. "See? Already there. Everything's going to be fine. Trust us."

With that he pushed to his feet and opened the back-doors, leaving John to sit on the ground of the vehicle, gathering strength to push to his feet.

_Daddy…_

---

The time he spent in the hospital's waiting-room seemed endless. His heart jolted every time someone from the staff of the hospital entered the room.

Then, the moment the doctor called his name, John didn't even react. Only when his name was called a second time did he flinch and jumped to his feet on auto-pilot.

"Me!" he croaked. "That's me. How… how are they…"

The doctor, a man in his mid-fifty's with grey hair and a gentle and kind face, looked him up and down, evaluating.

"Please, follow me Mr. Winchester." He smiled soothingly, waving invitingly with his arm.

They slowly walked down the corridor towards several doors, before entering one, the doctor stopped and it took John a moment to catch up with it.

"Mr. Winchester…" the man said, forcing John to stiffen and slowly turn back.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

"Your boys were very lucky tonight, Mr. Winchester." And this one sentence was just too much for John to take.

With a helpless sob, his legs gave out under him and he crashed to the ground, trying to stifle every other sound, unsuccessfully, as he sat there in a heap and wept.

He didn't care that other people knew and saw.

His boys… his babies would be okay.

"We know it must have been frightening to come home and find…" the doctor began, crouching in front of the distressed father.

"It's been my fault. Entirely my fault! I… I left them with… If I had known… if I had only known! My shift at the garage goes till 9 pm. I wouldn't have been home before that. Dean… Dean… he… he… called…"

"John. This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known. But for now it's very important for you to know, that your boys will need you. More then ever! You have to be strong for them, support them, because although there will be no aftermath physically, there will be one psychically. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, John?"

John understood. His boys would never go through something like this again.

With new determination he wiped his eyes and pushed to his feet.

"Sorry… Doc… it's been a rough night." He apologized clumsily, trying to smile but failing miserably.

The man smiled understandingly and clapped his shoulder gentle. "That's okay. We're all humans and there is only so much we can take. Everyone has them once in a while John, those weak moments. Now, c'mon. Let's see how your son's are doing."

---

Now he sat peacefully between the two cots, keeping vigil over his sleeping children.

As he learned from the doctor, Dean had suffered a mild concussion and rather deep bruising on his back. His wrists and arms showed hand-shaped bruises. John was sure the seven-year-old had put up a hell of a fight.

Sammy had been examined for signs of shaken-impact-syndrome. The results had come back negatively. The toddler must have fallen asleep simply because of exhaustion. Just harsh bruising around the little boy's upper arms reminded of what had happened tonight.

He didn't want to, but some time during the night the events caught up with him and John drifted off to a fitful sleep in the early morning hours.

---

"Daddy…" the one word penetrated his sleep.

"Daddy…" It let his world spin out of control, whispered so softly, at first he thought he had imagined it.

He stopped breathing, his heart suddenly aching so bad, beating frantically… if one had told him he was able to feel that much after everything that had happened he would have laughed them in the face.

"Daddy…" John's eyes snapped open to see gentle sunlight filtering through the curtains of the hospital-room, his eyes roamed the room to come to rest on the little, sleepy face that looked up at him tiredly.

Bruises decorated the delicate skin of Dean's face, his green eyes glistening, radiating fear and pain and… hope.

"Dean…" John whispered moving his stiff body from the chair to drop to his knees in front of the bed, hesitating only a short second before he wrapped his arms gently around the boys body and dragged him from the bed to the floor.

"Daddy's here, Dean. Everything's okay. Daddy's here…"

Tears started to sting in his eyes as thin arms wrapped around his neck and the hug was returned.

"Daddy…" the soft breath tickled in his ear.

"Daddy's here…"

**FIN**

So, uhm? What do you think? Reviews and feedback are welcome...


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